


Fire At Will

by ViciousVenin



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Falling In Love, M/M, POV Third Person, Pining, Sad, Sad Ending, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousVenin/pseuds/ViciousVenin
Summary: When they started hooking up, Frank didn't think that falling in love with Gerard was in the cards. He was wrong.





	Fire At Will

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god I am so so sorry for this. Do not read if you're just looking for porn it's too fucking sad for that.

It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just that, sometimes, they fuck. They had decided not to talk about it, and just go for it when one of them felt like it. Because, more likely than not, if one of them was in the mood then the other was too. So, they fucked: in shared hotel rooms and dressing rooms and sometimes on the bus if they could get a few minutes alone. And it was never a problem. It  _wasn’t_. Only, it was now, because Frank had fallen in love, and that kind of defeats the whole purpose of  _casual_  sex, doesn’t it? 

~ 

He hadn’t meant for it to happen, it just did. There was something about the way Gerard pushed his hair back when was thinking, or how he smoked like it was a sport, or his ability to leave a room in disarray when Frank could’ve sworn he didn’t touch anything. It was the little things, always the little things. They drew Frank in until he didn’t know what the fuck to do with himself, and now he had to start figuring it out or shit was going to hit the fan. 

“What do you want?” he asks. It’s not hostile. In fact, he says it in his bedroom voice, because that’s where he and Gerard currently are. Or, well, not a bedroom exactly, but shitty motel room, and that’s almost as good. 

“Lemme suck you off, Frankie.  _Please_  let me. I wanna–” Gerard’s whining is cut off by Frank cupping his check and pressing their mouths together. 

The kiss isn’t as hot and sexy as he means for it to be. Actually, it turns out sweet and romantic, and for a second he’s worried that Gerard knows. He’s _always_  worried that Gerard knows, especially in these moments where he gives any indication of how he feels. But when he pulls back, Gerard’s sly grin is back in place and he’s leaning forward to unzip Frank’s jeans. 

Frank’s on his back on the bed, Gerard having pinned him down there almost as soon as they’d gotten into the room. Gerard kneels over him as he finishes with Frank’s fly and slowly pulls the jeans down, Frank lifting his hips to help.  

Gerard presses a kiss to Frank’s hipbone, and says so softly that Frank almost doesn’t hear it, “So fuckin’ pretty, Frankie.” 

Frank does hear it, though, and his breath catches in his throat. It’s in these moments that he starts to think maybe Gerard feels the same way, and then he has to come back to his senses and shake it off. Gerard doesn’t feel the same way. Can’t possibly feel the same way when he’s been busy fucking half their crew and the members of their opening bands. Frank knows because he’s caught Gerard far too many times with his fingers in some girl’s cunt or his mouth wrapped around a dick that isn’t Frank’s. 

At the moment, though, the dick Gerard has his mouth wrapped around – or, at least, is about to –  _is_ Frank’s, and he’s thankful for that. Thankful for knowing that Gerard turned down two parties and a hookup with their merch girl, Brianne, so that he could be here with Frank. He knows it doesn’t mean anything though, it’s just that Gerard craves familiarity, as he’s told Frank on numerous occasions, and he hasn’t fucked Brianne yet as far as Frank knows. 

Frank takes in a sharp breath as Gerard licks from the base of his cock to the head. He looks down and sees Gerard’s eyes burning into him. “Gee–” he says, but he can’t finish the sentence (which is fine as he wasn’t sure what he was going to say anyway) because he’s cut off by his own moan as Gerard takes the head of his cock into his mouth and sucks on it, hollowing out his cheeks. Gerard pulls off with a wet pop and a winning smile, and Frank breathes out, “Fuck.”  

“We can do that too,” Gerard says teasingly, wrapping his fingers loosely around Frank’s cock. “We’ve got all night.” 

They do  _not_  have all night. They have to be up and packed and on the bus at eight tomorrow morning, but Frank’s not about to complain. “Fuck yeah,” he says instead. 

Gerard gives him another of those smiles that makes his stomach swoop, and then says, “First thing’s first,” and slides nearly all of Frank’s dick into his mouth. 

“Jesus  _Christ_.” Frank brings his hands up to thread through Gerard’s hair, pulling the way he knows Gerard likes. 

Gerard moans, and sinks down further, relaxing his throat and swallowing around Frank. He pulls off and then starts moving at a steady pace, alternating between swirling his tongue around the head and flattening it against the shaft so he can deep throat. After a few minutes, he pulls off, and removes his own pants, revealing an absolutely massive bulge in his briefs. 

Frank catches himself drooling as he stares, and quickly shuts his mouth before Gerard notices. He needn’t worry, though, because Gerard is crossing the room to his bag and rooting around until he extracts a bottle of lube and a string of condoms. He uses his teeth to tear one off the end, dropping the rest back into the bag. 

“You ready, Sugar? ‘Cause I sure am,” Gerard says after taking the condom package out of his mouth. 

All Frank can do is nod, and Gerard gives him a crooked smile. He sets the bottle and condom on the bed as he crawls back over Frank, leaning in close and pressing a soft, warm kiss to Frank’s lips. Frank’s chest expands. 

“Fuck,” Frank says again, and that just about sums it up. 

~ 

He almost catches what's going on, but he doesn’t, and he fucking hates himself for it when he pushes into the bunk area and is greeted by moans from Gerard’s bunk. He jumps to shut the door behind him, so maybe they won’t notice the sound and light spilling in from the front lounge, but then he realizes how stupid he’s been yet  _again_  when he finds himself now stuck with his back to the wrong side of the door, the chorus of moans growing louder as he clamps his eyes shut and tries to think about what the fuck he should do in this situation. 

He’s not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that Gerard and whoever the fuck is in his bunk (a girl, if Frank had to guess) haven’t noticed his presence. This would be incredibly fucking awkward if Frank had to face Gerard while he was fucking someone else, because, somehow, in all the times that Frank had caught Gerard in the act, Gerard had not once found out about it. Not that Gerard noticing Frank walk in on him multiple times would really make this less awkward. But maybe he would have some idea of what to  _do_  if this had already happened before, and maybe in a place where someone else wasn’t liable to come crashing through the door, catching Frank just standing there and listening like a creep. 

But he’s not listening, he’s  _not_. But there also isn’t really a way for him to tune out the sounds of Gerard and whoever else going at it. He’s trying to decide between making the quietest exit ever or sticking it out until it’s over and pretending to come in then.  

The decision is made for him, though, when he hears Gerard let out  _that_  moan, the one that Frank knows means he’s close, and then the person he’s with – definitely a woman – says, “Yeah, that’s right, baby.” Frank cringes, knowing Gerard doesn’t really like being called baby, and the only time Frank did it, Gerard gave him a Look and said never to do it again. But Gerard doesn’t say anything this time, just moans again and then falls silent. 

Frank hears the wet sound of the couple kissing, and then scrunches his eyes shut even tighter, trying to pretend that he’s not here, and that he’s not listening to Gerard suck face with someone else. 

“You gonna stay?” Frank hears Gerard ask. 

There’s another smacking sound of lips parting. “Yeah.” 

Frank releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as quietly as he can, and feels his heart break right along with it. It’s stupid, he  _knows_  it’s stupid. But it happens anyway. 

At that moment he realizes that he should probably make his fake entrance as the couple have obviously settled in for the night and (hopefully) aren’t going to be doing anything Frank shouldn’t walk in on. So, he opens the door behind him, prays that no one in the lounge area sees and wonders what’s going on, and then closes it again, pretending to just be stepping into the room. 

He expects Gerard to stay silent, pretend to be asleep so no one will suspect he just fucked someone in his bunk, but Gerard surprises Frank, as he has a habit of doing. 

“Hey,” Gerard says, popping his head out of his bottom bunk to look at Frank. His brow furrows. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Frank says. His voice cracks embarrassingly and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” It must be convincing enough, because Gerard nods and his head disappears behind the curtain. Frank crosses to his own bunk, right above Gerard’s, and pulls himself up into it. He heaves a sigh as he settles in, knowing that he most likely won’t sleep a wink with what may or may not be happening just below him. Still, he closes his eyes, and tries his best to be dead to the world for a few hours. 

~ 

They’re ten minutes into a conversation about D&D when Frank realizes he has his hand wrapped around Gerard’s wrist and their faces are so close their noses are almost touching. He nearly rips his hand away, and jolts back so he’s sitting firmly in his chair rather than on the edge of it where he was leaning across the table to be closer to Gerard. 

Gerard’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his mouth forms into a little “o.” Frank tries to look apologetic, but he’s not sure what to say. “Just remembered I–” he fumbles for a way to finish the sentence, “need to talk to Cortez. About a problem I’ve been having. With one of the guitars.” He bolts from his seat at the small kitchen table and steps off the bus. He doesn’t even bother looking for Cortez; there’s no problem with any of the guitars. Well, except for the one that has the A string that goes out of tune way faster than the others for some reason, but they’ve already talked about it and come to the conclusion that nothing can really be done. 

He cards a hand through his hair as he walks towards the back door of the venue. It’s early, but already there are people rushing through the hallways with lights and props, getting ready for the show. He ducks out of the way into an unlocked dressing room and shuts the door behind him. 

“You okay?” comes a voice from the other end of the room, and Frank jumps. 

“Shit, Ray, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He pushes off the door and moves forward a few steps. 

“Sorry,” Ray says, distracted by the guitar in his hands. He’s restringing it, which he doesn’t have to do when they have techs that do that kind of stuff, but every time Frank or Mikey point that out he just says, “I like doing it myself” and brushes them off. Frank kind of gets it, but he also likes being lazy, and so he often hands his guitars off to someone else for maintenance. Ray eyes Frank warily. “You wanna talk about something?” 

Frank starts to decline, but Ray  _always_  knows when something’s up, and if he doesn’t spit it out now he’ll just end up admitting it sometime in the next few days after Ray’s sidelong glances get to be too much. He sighs. “Yeah. It’s just–” he takes another few steps, and leans against the counter Ray is perched on with his guitar. “It’s Gee. I don’t really know what to do.” Frank looks down at his hands where they’re clasped together in front of him, not wanting to see Ray’s quizzical look. 

Ray doesn’t even turn his head towards Frank, though, and just keeps working on the guitar in his lap. “You know Gee doesn’t pick up on shit unless you lay it out for him.” 

Frank looks at Ray then, who’s still focused on the strings. “What do you mean?” 

Ray sighs. “We all know, Frank. Well, not Gerard. But the rest of us.” He rests his guitar across his legs and meets Frank’s eye. “We all know you two sleep around. But you don’t, not anymore, really. And the way you look at him… you want more. It’s kinda obvious.” 

“Shit,” Frank says, and looks down again. “I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Nah.” Ray smacks Frank’s shoulder good naturedly. “You’re just a sucker for artsy singers. You could have worse taste.” 

Frank smiles a little, then frowns. “I can’t stop," he says, shaking his head. "I can’t stop… giving myself to him. Like, if he doesn’t want more, it’ll fucking hurt. But I’ll keep on hurting if it means I still get to touch him.” 

“Frankie–” Ray starts, but Frank cuts in. 

“He’s everything, Ray.” Frank looks up again, and sees that Ray’s brows have knit together. “I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.” 

“Gee wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself, you know that.” He grips Frank’s shoulder and gives him a deep look. “Talk to him, okay? You can’t keep going like this.” 

Frank nods and looks away. “Yeah. I know.” 

~ 

Frank would like to think he has some amount of self-control. He’d like to think he has the ability to keep his hands to himself when he needs to, to keep his head down and stay out of the way when the situation calls for it. But Frank can’t do any of those things. Especially not when they’re on stage, and the adrenaline is high and Gerard his willing and hot and hard.  _Visibly_  hard. 

He just can’t stop himself from placing himself in Gerard’s space over and over and over again, not when Gerard gives him that crooked come-on smile and leans into his touch. So that’s how Frank finds himself with his face pressed to Gerard’s crotch, and Gerard’s hand holding him there, bucking forward and moaning halfway into the mic.  

Frank thinks Gerard might come from this, in front of thousands of people, and he thinks that’s a little ridiculous. But fuck if Frank’s not right there with him, and he’s not even being touched, just used. And in that moment, Frank realizes he kind of has a thing for this. Being used. And he would let Gerard use him no matter how little he gets in return. 

Eventually, Gerard pushes him away, laughing, and Frank can’t help but smile back, even if it hurts like fuck. 

~ 

“I fucking  _love_  you, oh my God!” Gerard says, and then slams Frank against the wall so he can kiss him breathless. 

Frank goes with it, and tries not to latch on too hard to Gerard’s words and how much he wishes Gerard meant them. Instead, he gives back, just like he always does. 

“That was incredible, Frankie,” Gerard says when they part. “Fuck, you were so good. I was so fucking hard.” 

“Still are,” Frank says with a smile. 

Gerard laughs and rolls his hips against Frank’s. “You’re right about that.” 

Suddenly there’s a loud crash as someone knocks over a stack of boxes at the end of the hallway. “Jesus Christ! Really?” Mikey pokes his head out from behind the fallen boxes. “Backstage?” 

Gerard steps away from Frank. “Sorry, Mikes.” He looks at Frank again, winks, and goes to help Mikey with the boxes. 

Frank would help too, if his legs weren’t made of jelly.  

~ 

"I have to tell you something," Frank says when they're lying in bed coming down after round one. He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, knowing he can't go back now.  

Gerard is smoking, even though they're in a non-smoking room, and he lets out a long exhale. "Yeah?" He says, not looking at Frank. 

"I, uh." Frank is turned on his side, facing Gerard. He pauses for a moment, and that catches Gerard's attention. They look at each other then, and Frank feels the moment stretch on forever. "I'm in love with you," he says before he loses his nerve. 

Gerard is perfectly frozen, the ash from his cigarette dropping on the sheets next to him. After a few seconds, he blinks. "You what?" 

"I'm, you know. In love with you. Kinda." It's even harder to say the second time. 

"Shit, Frankie." And that is not exactly the response Frank was looking for. Gerard sits up and stubs out his cigarette on the ashtray he'd brought from home. "I don't really know what to say to that." 

Frank nods, his eyes not meeting Gerard's. "So, you don't feel the same way, I take it." 

"You know I love you, Frank. Just... not like that." 

Frank wonders if he's the only one who hears that shattering sound from inside his chest. It seems deafening. He nods again. "Yeah, I get it. No biggie." 

"We can stop, if you want. I don't want to be using you."

Frank looks up and sees that Gerard is barely shaken by all this. It makes him angry for some reason. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's cool. We don't have to stop. I'll... get over it." 

"You sure?" Gerard asks after a pause. 

"Yeah, I'm sure. No worries, really. It was more just the, like, potential for something more. If you wanted that. But you don't so that's fine." It feels weird to already be talking about it in the past tense, as if it doesn't matter as much anymore. 

"Okay. Because you really are a good fuck, Frankie," Gerard jokes, and he's grinning again. 

Frank buries the hurt under fifty layers of guilt and denial and lust. "Maybe I should prove it," he says. 

~ 

It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just that, sometimes, they fuck. And it doesn't mean anything. 

Nothing at all. 


End file.
